


In Plain Sight

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Challenge: View From The Bullpen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:14:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when a room full of detectives (or at least one of them) decide to see what's been right in front of his eyes all along?</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Plain Sight

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd, not spellchecked and the demon speller LOVES me, so consider yourself warned. ;-) 
> 
> I'm a little late jumping on the challenge bandwagon, but after checking 2 months worth of email (don't ask, looong story), I finally read about this and decided to try it out. So this is for the bullpen challenge and from Rafe's POV. 
> 
> Warnings: Hmm.....nah. I don't think so. A little action, all off camera since it *is* from Rafe's deductions that this snip takes place. And the man's much too good-looking for this fan writer to give a heartattack to by having him walk in on the...um...festivities. 

## In Plain Sight

by Samantha Agee

Author's disclaimer: Don't own them, wish I did, imagine the possibilities. ;-) Not for profit, unless you count feedback as profit. 

* * *

*Well, I'll be Blessed.* 

Studying the young man walking through the doors of Major Crime, arms laden with all manner of papers, books and some things best left unidentified, Detective Brian Rafe chuckled at the loud thump of a backpack hitting the floor, Sandburg desperately leaning so the rest of his things didn't follow suit. The end result was that the desk in front of him caught the brunt of the fallout. 

The very desk belonging to Detective Jim Ellison, Sandburg's observee contact into the Cascade PD. Cop of the Year, hardassed, neatfreak extraordinare, ex- Army Ranger, Covert Ops, Jim Ellison. 

Not that Ellison would do more than roll his eyes, groan and bestow on the kid a pointed glare that would send the rest of the room cowering into the far corner. Not that it would earn more than a raised eyebrow or two from the observer who would merely straighten up the mess, maybe shifting it over a little before getting right back to what he had been doing before the other detectives had gone into hiding. 

Never let it be said Hairboy didn't pull his own weight; taking the brunt of Ellison's cutting wit - not to mention temper - away from the rest of the department was often enough in itself to earn the respect (or at least sympathies) of even the most hardened of detectives. Though not so much anymore seeing as how Ellison seemed much calmer these days, more mellow. Ever since hooking up with the long-haired, double-earringed anthropology grad, Badass Ellison, as far as Rafe himself knew, hadn't had a major blowup in the last several months. 

At least none that required damaged control. Ok, extensive damage control. With bodybags. 

And Standard Issue Neurolizers. 

No, what had Rafe amazed was the kid was only wearing one - count them \- _one_ layer of clothing today. So it was a longsleeved tshirt and it _was_ supposed to reach into the low seventies (yes, they _were_ still in Cascade, so don't say that too loud), but for Sandburg who was forever cold to the bone, this was reason enough to stop the presses and cancel the headlines for the next day. Maybe two. 

"Hey, Blair," he couldn't resist calling out teasingly, chuckling again at the rolling eyes look he received and he hadn't even said anything yet. "What happened? Forget where you woke up this morning?" 

"Hey, can I help it if I'm having warm, Hawaii dreams? Coconuts, palm trees? Beautiful exotic women, weaving in sentual rythym to the hula on the beach?" The grinning observer asked, cheerfully demonstrating said hula with graceful arm movements. "Only keep it down about the weather, willya? Don't want the gods getting wind of it or boom! Here come rain, snow and icecicles up to my - hey Simon." 

Rafe turned sharply as the captain hurumphed behind him. 

"Having fun, are we, gentlemen?" 

"Well, yeah. You see I was just explaining to Rafe about the hula and the way the movements..." 

"Can it, Sandburg." It was Simon's turn to roll his eyes heavenward as Blair's eyes sought Rafe's in a shared grin. "Where's your partner? Figured Jim'd be here by now." 

"Down in Records." Blair provided helpfully, leaning his butt and palms back on Jim's desk. "I think he wanted to check something the kid gave us yesterday. Something having to do with his alibi for the robbery." 

"Alright, when he gets here, I want the two of you in my office. That understood?" 

"You bet." 

As Banks turned to make his way back into said office, Rafe looked back to Sandburg who, with a devilish grin on his face, had returned to his hula adding hips and shoulder movements to the dance. The detective was about to warn him when Ellison himself drew in beind the observer, leaning close before Sandburg even knew he was there. 

"Easy there, Chief." The bigger man whispered. "You might break something." 

Laughing as Sandburg squeaked, Rafe shook his head at the glare the kid threw at Ellison before his fellow detective took in the mess piled on his desk. Sure enough, there was the patented glare to which the kid merely responded smugly that they were wanted in Simon's office, ASAP. 

Watching the pair enter the lion's den, Ellison's hand on the small of the kid's back, guiding him through the door as usual, Rafe got back to work, mentally wishing _he_ could take a trip to the islands. Or at least the beach before Mother Nature realized her mistake and rerouted the wonderful weather they currently enjoyed, back to it's propper place. 

_Like_ Hawaii. 

Or the Bahamas. 

It was going to be a long day. 

* * *

*There they go again...just like an old married couple. Why don't they get the rings and be done with it?* 

Chuckling to himself, (ok so he was snickering, he was entitled, after all, if he was to be stuck inside on a day like today, he was going to make the most of it), Rafe watched as Ellison led the way, file in hand and resolutely ignoring his shorter partner trailing along in his wake. Behind Ellison, Sandburg was trying without much success to make some point or other but even though the detective was making every effort to appear is if he weren't paying any attention to the kid's antics, it was clear to Rafe that he was, in all actuality, hanging on every word. 

_Just_ like an old married couple. 

Now that was an interesting thought. Sandburg and Ellison. 

No way. 

Was there? 

Startled by the clarity of the thought, Rafe put down his pencil and covertly watched the two. Sure enough, there was the kid, leaning over Jim's shoulder, reading the file, completely in the older detective's personal space and not only did Ellison not seem to mind, he didn't even seem to notice anything was out of place. As if Sandburg was always there; had always been there. 

In a place no one else even dared get within five feet of. 

Strange, very strange. 

Just at that point, Ellison _did_ seem to notice he was there, but not only did he not pull away, he leaned over, almost cheek to cheek with Sandburg, pointing out a bit of the puzzle Blair must have missed. Teeth worrying the bottom lip, the anthropolgist's face scrunched up in thought, frowning ever so slightly at the page as though it had personally caused him to lose the arguement. 

"Well damn." 

Rafe's eyes widened a little as gruff, tough guy Jim Ellison patted the other man's cheek gently before closing the file and dropping it in the stack of paperwork to be finalized later that afternoon, after lunch. Logging off the computer, Ellison stretched lightly, Blair moving out of the way as the detective stood up, decisively reaching for his keys. 

"Hey, Rafe." Sandburg called out in his direction. "Want to grab some lunch? Jim and I are heading for this great italian place over on 4th." 

Oh, yeah. Twelve o'clock. Lunchtime. And just like always, Sandburg and Ellison were heading out to lunch. 

Together. 

Surpised to find the rest of the bullpen empty except for the three of them And Chambers, back in the corner, Rafe shook his head no, most of his brain still working through what, to him, was appearing to be a mighty revolation. "Thanks, but you guys go ahead. Hoping to take off early today if I can get this paperwork done." 

"I'm down with that." Sandburg sympathized with him. "Sure you don't want us to bring you back anything? Mama Rosa provides some great takeout." 

Rafe blinked in surprise. "If you guys don't mind." 

"No trouble." Jim spoke beside his partner, "Anything in particular?" 

Rafe blinked again. This time in greater surprise that he hid quickly. From Sandburg this was to be expected; that's just the way the kid was. From Ellison...Rafe was tempted to check and make sure the sky wasn't falling but didn't want to tempt fate. Maybe later he'd look for the pod people. 

But then, this was just one more example of the mellowing effect Sandburg had on the Major Crimes detective. Mellow, cooperative, friendly...thy name is Ellison. 

"Whatever looks good." Rafe managed. "Thanks guys, I appreciate it." 

"Yeah well, just remember us when you're out on the beach this afternoon soaking up the rays, man." Blair grinned. "I'll be the one in the red speedos. Jim'll be the one in the water, trying to find his surfboard." 

"Laugh it up, fuzzball." Ellison scowled but it held no ring to it, bopping the curly head as he passed. "I know where you live." 

Blair snorted with a look that said 'you _are_ a detective, aren't you?'. "I should hope so." 

Ellison continued, with a smug lttle grin. "I've got the keys and you didn't drive today. So be nice. Back in a few, Rafe." 

Rafe couldn't help grinning at the antics of the two men, cracking on each other as they moved down the hall. And he couldn't help but wonder if there really was more between those two than met the eye. Or maybe just the eye of the casual observer. 

Or _maybe_ just the eye of the average unobservant detective? 

Almost gleefully deciding the afternoon would be time enough to put his deductive abilities into play, Brian cracked open another file, getting down to some serious paperwork. 

After all, the beach was still calling his name. 

* * *

*I swear, I will _never_ look at another secretary the same way again. Honest to God. Admiration from now on. Add in some eye popping awe and we have a deal.* 

Lunch now a warm, pleasant feeling in his belly (Momma Rosa did indeed provide a most excellent takeout), Rafe glared at the stacks of paper in front of him, wondering idly if anyone had ever proven paperwork to be a sentient, living, thing. One of the tenants of life was the ability to multiply, right? Reproduce? Well in that case, _his_ caseload qualified as a bonafide lifeform. 

With evil intent. 

Evil, malicious intent. 

Shame he couldn't just shoot it, put it out of his misery. Only that would entail _more_ paperwork if only for the discharge of his firearm inside the police building (not to mention murder charges if paperwork was indeed found to possess valid claims to sentiency - wonder if he could get off pleading temporary insanity?) and he still wouldn't escape his desk and make it to the beach. At least not until sunset and even then, just barely. 

*Only the highest regard for the secretarial staff from now on, just get me out of here!* 

Sighing and resting his head on his arms when no answeiring leniency was forthcoming, Rafe sighed again, waiting on the computer to do it's thing and spellcheck his report before he signed it and handed it off to the captain for review. Thank God for spellcheck, otherwise he might as well move in here. 

Set up his bed next to his desk, maybe a nice plant or two... 

"What's up, Brian? You sigh any louder, man and Simon'll be out here wondering what's going on with the air conditioning." At Rafe's uncomprehending glance, Sandburg chuckled, raising his eyebrows and encouraging the detective to share the joke. "All that wind blowing his papers right out the window." 

Rafe grinned back, not bothering to raise his head off his arms. "Just tell him you're explaining the ancient rites of passage involving the hula and a tiki torch, Blair; I'm sure he'll understand." 

The low, gravely chuckle was accompanied by a shake of the observer's curly head, the hair down ever since coming back from lunch and suddenly Rafe's earlier plans for doing a little observing of his own resurfaced. 

"I....don't think so. I'm too young to die." 

With that, Ellison reentered the bullpen and Blair left to rejoin him, once again peering over his shoulder at the report he held in his hands. The dynamic was still there; the way Sandburg held himself so close to the man. No tightly or tense, the way most people would be if forced to invade another's personal space. In fact, he almost seemed more relaxed the closer he got to Jim; easy, comfortable. 

Rafe could barely hear the whispers through the rest of the afternoon bullpen noise; comments on the case, on lunch... 

...something whispered as their voices dropped lower. 

Not that Rafe was planning on eavesdropping, mind. 

Oh Hell. Yes he was. He was bored, tired, stiff from sitting all day working on one endless report after another...he wanted something to liven up his day. Even if it was some idle, way off the wall, wild and crazy speculation about Ellison and his partner. 

"Chief, I want you to come with me..." 

*I'll bet he does.* Rafe snickered to himself. 

"...down to lockup. Some things there we need to go over." 

No way would it ever be true, but still, it _was_ fun to theorize, even if the end result was so far removed from truth that it was laughable. 

Nodding, Sandburg absently reached up to brush his hair back, tucking a stray bit back behind his ear when Rafe froze. 

Or maybe not. 

On the kid's neck, in bright, almost neon technicolor splendor, was the biggest hickey Rafe had ever seen. Bright red, it wasn't something you could easily ignore; definitely a passion mark of the highest order, one that took a little time to produce. 

And it definitely hadn't been there before lunch. 

And since Blair had gone to lunch with Jim... 

Caught staring, Rafe couldn't look away as blue eyes seemed puzzled for a minute before widening in sudden understanding as to what the detective must be staring at. Flushing a light shade of red, Blair selfconsciously reached up a hand to cover the mark the scoop neck of the tshirt had left revealed and the mass of curly hair couldn't - quite - cover. 

"You coming, Chief?" Having finished his call down to lockup, Ellison was waiting for the kid - Sandburg - his partner - 

*Oh hell!* 

  * by the door. 



Flushing a deeper shade of red at the seemingly innocent question, Sandburg answered quickly, his eyes never leaving Rafe's. "Be down in a minute, Jim." 

"Suit yourself." 

With Ellison gone, Sandburg moved cautiously towards his desk, not knowing what to say. And from the look of him, not knowing what his reception would be after he said it. 

Rafe wasn't quite sure what to say, himself. After all, it was one thing to speculate, to fill up a long, drawn out afternoon, knowing, at least in your own mind, that you were way off base. But to have your most outlandish speculations confirmed, without even really looking for it; that was something else. 

"Rafe..." 

The tone was low, hesitant. Almost sad and afraid in a way he knew without knowing wasn't for Blair himself but for his partner who would have to work in an environment, possibly hostile, where everyone knew the truth. 

And suddenly Rafe _did_ know what to say. And what not to. 

Handing the observer the light jacket he wore in to work that morning in place of the suit jacket he usually chose, Rafe smiled slightly at the puzzled, wary expression on the kid's - on Blair's face. "Thought you might be getting a little chilly," he explained carefully neutral, before Blair noticed the smile. "Wouldn't want you to be caught out in the cold, now would we, Sandburg?" 

"I...guess not." 

Remembering Sandburg's earlier comment about the wind, his lips currved a little more, broadening the smile. "Cascade can get a little windy; the collar will help keep the wind off your neck." 

Staring at him thoughtfully for another moment, Blair finally found his own lips curving into a smile to match, saying seriously, simply, "Thanks, man." 

"Anytime, Sandburg." 

"I owe you one." 

On the Great Karmic Scale, no doubt Sandburg felt there was now a debt to be paid. 

With one last look, Sandburg followed the path his partner had gone, down to investigate whatever evidence they needed to, leaving Brain once more staring at his computer, the report he had been waiting on showing no signs of cycling through anytime soon. With another murmured sigh, Rafe rested his head back on his arms one more time, mumbling softly to himself. 

"Just remember me when you guys are on the beach." he muttered sadly. "I'll be the one wearing the green bikini briefs, dragging along old ball and chain behind me." 

Giving his desk, the old ball and chain, an affectionate if somewhat resigned pat, Brian Rafe, Major Crime detective and all around good guy settled back into his chair and absolutely refused to steal a longing glance outside the window. 

At the sun shining brightly overhead, soft breeze no doubt stirring the leaves on the trees, water lapping contented against the warm sand. 

People who had managed to earn, cajole or downright steal the day off out frolicking in the perfection with their loved ones. 

Inside the building of the Cascade PD, Rafe sighed again, papers stirring on His overburdened desk. 

It was going to be a long day. 


End file.
